Beyond help
by zoewinter1
Summary: Matthew is a slut. There is no denying this fact. At least half the school claims to have slept with the promiscuous teen. Mr. Francis Bonnefoy, and every other teacher at Hetalia high, have given up on him. But what happens when Francis is discovered to be the father of this provocative teen? Will he manage to change this slut's ways? does Matthew even want to change?
1. Chapter 1

Beyond help part 1

The woman grunted, an animal like sound escaping her. It had already been 26 hours, far longer than a normal birth should take. Her face was flushed in pain, and sweat trailed down her forehead. Doctors rushed around Alice Kirkland, preparing for the baby that was coming; and coming soon. She shouted loudly, and one of the nurses held her hand in a comforting gesture, although she was quickly losing the blood circulation in her fingers. The young woman's legs were spread wide.

"I see the head!" she shouted excitedly "I just need you to push alright miss? PUSH!"

Alice screamed louder than before, her whole body shaking. Her normally pin straight was frazzled around her like a crow's nest. Pieces stuck to her face, but she payed them no mind. It was several pain staking moments before she finally collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. The nurse looked excitedly upon the silent baby's face; His mouth open with no sound coming out. Several nurses hugged each other in happiness, one shouting above the chaos "it's a boy"

The cleaned and wrapped up baby was handed to the new mother who looked pale, eyes sunken in, and exhausted. She smiled at his sparkling violet eyes, the little tufts of blonde hair atop his head. His skin was a beautifully pale. Alice remarked he looked like an angel upon earth.

"My beautiful baby boy..." she whispered, her voice wavering and tired. She took a small necklace from around her neck. A tiny silver chain with a small red maple leaf as it's only adornment. She gently clipped the necklace around his neck, wrapping it around his small head several times as it was far too long for him, but he would grow. "you're so beautiful, I'm sorry I won't be there for you"

The nurses all stared in confusion before they began panicking. They young woman's vital signs suddenly dropping; her head rolled to the side; her eyes staring at the wall unseeing. Nurses and doctors alike scrambled to bring the young woman back to the living, but it was too late.

And the small, unnamed child made his first sound; crying in the arms of his dead mother.

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Down the halls of the Bluebell hospital, lay a lobby. Past the lobby there lay more halls and rooms; seperated in to sections. These sections were called wards. Each ward had a special name for what it focused on. Our story currently takes place in room 304 of the maternity ward.

Every small child in room 304 lay in a comfortable bed and slept soundly. On each of their tiny little wrists was a silver bracelet. On each of these silver bracelets; lay the name of each of these tiny patients and the names of their parents. One little one's bracelet stood out from the others. While he looked just as healthy and happy, and slept just as soundly as the others. It was not the fact that his little tufts of blonde hair were already stunning, or the unusual colours of his violet eyes hidden behind sleeping eyelids. No, what set him apart was his blissfully empty bracelet that held only one name. That of his deceased mother: Alice Kirkland. The name of his father and himself remained empty.

Nurse Braginski gazed sadly into the maternity ward. She knew how that mother must have felt bringing a child into the world alone. She already had 1 year old Ivan to care for, but now that she was pregnant with her second child, her children's father mysteriously left leaving nothing for them. It would have been difficult raising the little boy on her own, but now Alice was no longer among them to take up the task.

"Nurse Braginski?" A soft voice questioned. Katyusha turned to see doctor Vargas standing there, holdng a clipboard.

"yes doctor?"

"Why does one of them have no name?" He asked, referring to the little boy she'd been pondering over herself.

"his mother unfortunately passed away due to birth complications. She left him the maple leaf necklace, and nothing else. Not even a name" She replied directly, but averted her eyes to the floor in sadness.

He nodded nonchalantly, used to dealing with cases like this "alright has anyone contacted the father?"

After pausing for a few seconds, she shook her head "no, we have not. She told us not bother for he knew of her pregnancy and said he wanted nothing to do with it"

Doctor Romulus Vargas stood stock still for a total of fifteen seconds before releasing a breathe he didn't realize he had been holding in. He knew what happened to boys with no families. He had seen many cases where the mother died, and many where the father remained uninvolved (katyusha was a prime example of the latter) but hardly any where the two coincided. He's seen hardly any, but he'd seen some through his many years working in the hospital. Their lives were never well.

"I contacted the girl's parents" Katyusha continued, subconsciously placing a hand on her swelling abdomen "but they said they wanted nothing to do with 'their whore of a daughter'. I then contacted her brother, Who also said he wanted nothing to do with her. He has no family to go to, no place to call home. He's done for"

"I'll call child services" Romulus heard Katyusha barely stifle a gasp "it's what we must do" he continued.

She nodded, tears pricking the back of her eyes "I know sir, I just wish there was another way"

Romulus looked into the room, seeing the newborn child sleeping peacefully; unaware of his impending fate. "as do I katyusha, as do I"

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Several hours later, a stiff looking social services agent arrived. She had cold grey eyes, with gray hair pulled in to a tight bun. If one were to look close enough they would see her split ends. One did not have to look close to see her unpleasent scowl.

Wordlessly, Katyusha handed the swaddled baby to the agent, and began signing out the papers handed to her by the agent. The agent held the little bundle of joy, who remained sleeping, with no love whatsoever. She held him stiffly, coldly, as if he were a box of eggs. Delicate and important, but not a real living breathing creature in need of love and care. When the nurse filled all the spaces she could, she handed it back to the agent. The cold woman looked over the papers with an unimpressed scowl before she stopped, read over a part again, then handed the papers back to Katyusha

"you did not put down the boy's name" she said monotonely, an unimpressed gaze still pressed sternly to the unfulfilled papers.

"he has none" Katyusha responded; a hint of sadness creeping in to her voice.

the agent shoved the papers more urgently towards the nurse, keeping her scowl on her face "asign him one. A first name only. An orphan doesn't need a last name"

nervously, she took the papers and looked at the blank spot that read ((insert name here)). The last bit stung her. No last name. As if being raised in the horrendous foster program wasn't enough, not feeling the real love from a real parent wasn't enough, they just had to go and rub it in by denying him a second name. Just to remind the world, to make sure he never fit in. To ensure his life would be as difficult as possible. She had no idea what to write, what would he want? The agent simply said 'asign him a name' but this was so much more than that. This would be what he would live by for the rest of his life. The first gift given to you by your parents. The most important thing to you. What you would hold most dear. This wasn't something you could simply 'asign' someone. You needed to think it out, add love and care, give it your own personal flair.

But as it was, the agent stood there staring at her, clearly wanting to leave soon. Katyusha wrote down the first name that came to her mind.

Matthew

The spot for a last name remained blank because unfortunately that's what he was, a blank. The steel woman took the final papers, and walked off where a similarily dressed and acting man sat in a silver car. They drove off and Katyusha walked back inside to finish her shift.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Police car sirens ran through the air, awaking all in the peaceful neighberhood. Many wandered out, wondering why there were such loud noises at such an ungodly hour. The scene they were met with was not a happy one.

Officers walked in and out of one of the many houses in the neighberhood. The kind man living inside was handcuffed, sitting in the back of a police cruisers. Why was he there? He was such a kind man. He was the father of a foster home, helping orphaned children recover and live normal lives. He was a part of the community, volunteering at church outings and the local elementary school. He raised money for various charities. He was truly a kind man. So why was he in the back of a police cruiser, already arrested and waiting to be put on trial in a few weeks?

The answer was the foster children themselves, huddled in a little bundle of bodies ranging from 3-8 years old. 5 little ones hugged each other. the eldest, 8 years old, had short wavy brown hair and shaking green eyes. A 5 year old boy had neatly combed blonde hair and glasses. While he looked considerably less scared than the others, he simply stared at on spot on the dew covered grass without looking away, even as he comforted the others.

The third child looked the worst. Purple and black bruises bloomed across his pale frame and face. His violet shook and teared up easily as he sat in the lap of the blonde haired one. His short wavy dirty blonde hair accented his tubby 3 year old face. He was the youngest and by far the saddest.

The fourth child looked to be about 6 years old. He had dark hair that looked to be almost purple and a birthmark just below his thin lips. He held the fifth boy who wept silently, making no noise as he had been taught by their foster father. He comforted the younger and tried not to cry himself. He sported a blackening bruise on his chin that was far more painful than it looked.

The fifth and last boy was only 4 years old but was shaking the most, except for the 3 year old possibly. He too sported bruises over his entire fragile body. Black storms marring a pure white canvas. Fresh blood crusted in his blonde hair that reached down his face and framed his chin. Violet eyes remained clenched closed in pain; Thin tears streaking his cheeks.

Toris, Eduard, Raivis, Roderich, Matthew. 8,5,3,6,4. So young, yet so hurt. Their "wonderful" caretaker hurting them beyond what words could describe, taking from them what all children should have.

and the worst part? The man who hurt them got away with minimal punishment when the court realized they didn't have last names.

that they were orphans.

that they were blanks.

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**A/N okay so this is a human AU if you didn't already figure this out. I would just like to say as a disclaimer, I have nothing against orphans, children with 1 parent, or people who choose have sexual interactions with multiple people . In this AU though, orphans are highly looked down upon. "Blank" is a derogatory term for them, referring to the fact that they have no last name. As you can imagine, slut shaming will be a large part of this story so I'm sorry if this offends anyone I personally do not condone slut shaming but for the story it will be a large part of the plot**

**So yeah please review! follows/favourites are awesome but reviews are what make me roll on the ground squealing in happiness. I will try weekly updates on Mondays~ **


	2. Chapter 2

Beyond help part 2

With a seductive sway of his hips, a flick of his wrist, a lollipop in hand, he walks down the hall. A school issued school uniform hugs him in all the right places, something that shouldn't be possible for these crummy plaid school uniforms. Hungry eyes trailed down his body, looking anywhere but his shining purple eyes. Those eyes though, trailed around looking at all those who did not know he was looking. Intelligence gleamed behind those soft eyes. But unfortunately the others did not perceive him this way.

A heckling of laughter from some anonymous voice shouts out from the crowd "hey whore! mind blowing me in the middle of the hallway?" earning plenty of snickers from those around him. Stray hands found their way to his bottom, smacking him or squeezing him. The boy being squeezed did nothing to stop the intruders, but in fact encouraged it with sly glances and raised eyebrow.

Of course there were those who did a bit less than admire him. Those who sneered, whispered sharp words, threw harsh glances his way all the way their words followed him

"he's going to hell" "what a fucking slut" "he just lets anyone grope him" "I hear he's even fucked straight men" "I heard he fucked a goat once" "I heard a goat fucked him"

The rumors only got stranger and stranger until they spiraled in to the truly unbelievable.

Class was what one could call uneventful, but that of course depended on who was saying it. For Matthew, it was uneventful. Nothing important happened. Sure there were the snickers and snide remarks and penetrating gazes from those who wanted him, and the hateful whispers from those who didn't. Those who quoted the bible around him, just to remind him how low he was. That legally, he wasn't so much as allowed to touch one of the holy things. One required parents to do such holy things. Nowadays, laws were biased. Orphans got special treatment in the medical system, and not good special treatment. Those who didn't depend on the under funded foster program to pay for their medical fees always got in first. A few words from the parents always got them in first. It was one of the MANY reasons the expected life span for blanks was years below that of regular children.

Blank. That's what he was. As much as his foster parents at the over crowded foster home told him not to call himself that, he knew it was true. While all others were Yao Wang, Alfred Kirkland, Kiku Wang, Ivan Braginski, he was just plain Matthew. As if blending in wasn't hard enough.

There were many other things you could call Matthew. Slut being one of the most common ones. But whore, blank, stupid, retard, and orphan followed him along as well. Through the halls, in the classroom, between barely open lips through hushed whispers they thought he couldn't hear. Another reason orphans didn't love long. suicide.

That Matthew's plan at least. Wait until he graduated, and jump off the rooftop for all to see. He almost laughed when he knew no one would care. Sure they would gawk and stare at his mutilated body from jumping from the ninth story of his over crowded school, But no one would care at a person level. In the end he would just be thrown in another blank grave, along with all the other orphans who jumped at the end of year. There were always at least a few. The numbers were rising steadily throughout the years, last year alone had 14 jumpers after graduation. Not all of them were grads.

Matthew planned to join the throngs of jumpers at the end of this year. Take the final leap and earn the only true freedom a boy like him could earn. What could he even do after? No college would accept a blank. Not only that, but he didn't want to face the hordes of people in the receiving of name ceremony.

The receiving of name ceremony was possibly the most important event in anyone's life. After they graduated, the whole school gathered in the auditorium with their mothers and fathers. One by one, the grads came onto the stage and were given the most important thing they could ever have. Their own last name. Up until you were 18, you held the last name of your parents (Wang, Braginski, Kirkland) but at the receiving of name ceremony you received your own personal last name. One that was for you yourself and no one else, except for the one you married if they took your name. It was considered a great honor to stand amongst your fellow students and be given a last name that suited you in every way. It was important, almost more important than graduating. The process was specialized. It looked at every aspect of your personality, your friends, your family, your possible careers, everything.

But for those without parents, orphans with no mother or father to grant them the ultimate honor, it was humiliating. Watching each and every student, peer, bully, asshole, and failing student walk up and receive their very own last name and get sent off into life. But they got nothing. No matter how well their grades, how athletically capable, no matter how strong, or beautiful, they got nothing. Without a parent they could never hope to receive something so marvelous.

No. There was no FUCKING way Matthew was going to sit there and watch as all his classmates went up there and got their last names, going places in life. Watching as the girls batted their eye lashes at the boys who got particularly buff last names. Your last name was your identity. It showed who you were. It showed how empty an orphan was. Your last name could make the difference between getting a partner or not. Showing off an impressive last name was everything.

Of course, you can realize how a last name wouldn't matter nearly as much before the ceremony, what with everyone having their father's last name and whatnot. It could still be used to impress others but it wasn't nearly as affective seeing as how it wasn't your own. That's why Matthew, and all the other orphans, could survive for as long as they could. Last names being nothing but a shiny license plate. Not your ticket to life.

Besides, where would they all end up? the streets. Once you were 18, you were gone. The foster homes kicked you off in to the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and the hope you wound up better than a corpse in a ditch. Matthew didn't want to see their unforgiving stares as they sent him off to god knows where. To most likely to continue what he did best in high school, fucking any man with a green enough bill in his pocket, just to hope some poor bastard would be desperate enough to let a blank in their apartment building. Yeah sure legally they were supposed to look over our blank status, but who even bothered to enforce that rule? If a blank was killed, did anyone care enough to investigate? no. If Matthew was murdered right here in the middle of the class would anyone come forward and say who did it? no. would the police care? no. would he care?

no.

The shriek bell tears the tense air of history and our teacher sends us off, yelling at us not to forget our history reports for next week. He doesn't expect anything from me, even though he will receive one. He'll simply skim it and give it a A as he always does. Mr. Adolf Beildschmidt was possibly one of the only teachers who wasn't 100% biased against him. Well, him and his counselor. Every other teacher just skipped his work, slapping an average B on there.

He sighed and slipped his student card in to the card reader outside his class. He held it there for a few seconds, waiting for it to scan his student ID and let him in (it always took longer processing students without a last name) before he felt his card ripped out of his hand and held high above his head. He didn't even need to look to know who was there.

"Gilbert" he said sternly "I can't afford to be late for class again"

The Albino asshole smirked "funny, because I can"

Matthew pulled himself from the door and pressed himself against the boy. He knew arousing him wouldn't help him, but maybe if he played a little bit the teachers wouldn't mind...

Matthew smirked, draping his arms around the German's neck (Prussian? Matthew wasn't even sure what a Prussian was...) "you really know how to grab someone's attention then, boy"

"call me that again" he whispered huskily in his ear "and I'll have you begging for mercy"

Matthew grinned wildly "boy"

Sure, having your face pressed against the cold tiles of a men's bathroom stall wasn't in the least bit comfortable and yes, having your hips gripped from behind hard enough to darken bruises already there was painful, but for these few moments of bliss it was worth it.

Gilbert's face was flushed and sweat dripped down his forehead as he repeatedly, in a steady pattern, thrusted in to the small Canadian in front of him. He groaned, and grunted, and made other animalistic noises of pleasure that echoed off the walls. Any passer-byers knew that bathroom was closed if Matthew was going about his "activities" again.

Sure it was painful, and sure it was probably only really enjoyable for the man moaning and groaning as he thrusted in to the smaller man, but said Canadian did not care. It was the attention he craved, knowing that right now he the undivided attention of the German man. So what if it was just for the period of time they were having sex? Why was sex such a holy activity that he couldn't sleep around?

besides, he was just a blank. A nameless orphan. This was the closest to love he was ever going to get.

throughout the rest of the day, people gave him strange glances and piercing glares. Matthew knew Gilbert was going around bragging about his escapades. Most people just whispered evil things when they thought he couldn't hear him. But of course there was always that one prick who just couldn't resist, and it was always the same asshole every fucking time...

"Couldn't help but hear Gilbert bragging about how he fucked you in to a wall during class, last block" that cocky motherfucking voice taunted. Matthew probably loathed this man the most, wanted him dead, wanted him to just walk a mile in his shoes or live a day in his life. See what it's like being an orphan.

Alfred Kirkland-Bonnefoy.

At this moment, he had him cornered in a more secluded section of the halls. Most people were in the cafeteria ordering their lunches, because they could. Matthew's group of friends, his real friends, were probably outside somewhere dealing with empty stomachs just as he would be doing soon. That is, if this little shit would let him leave.

"was it nice, knowing you were just being used like a little bitch? Everyone knows he's dating Elizaveta and you wanna know something funny?" Alfred leaned closer to Matthew, who had no where to back up to, already pushed against a wall. He stared back defiantly, nothing to say to the American's taunting words.

"she doesn't care if he fucks you. That's all you are, a fuck." when Matthew didn't react, Alfred drew back "pfft, you've probably fucked her too" and with that, he sauntered away, leaving Matthew to struggle against tears. He swallowed them down, refusing to cry. Tears got you nowhere.

The rest of the day was an incomprehensible blur. At some point the German sneaked him a 20 dollar bill, in thanks. He always did this. It was his way of reminding Matthew, of reminding himself, that there were no emotional attachments between them. Gilbert fuck Matthew. Gilbert pay Matthew. Repeat.

But of course, as the final bell of the day rang and Matthew prepared to leave, the man he possibly loathed the most besides Alfred was already waiting outside the door for him.

"Bonjour Matthieu" He alerted the smaller boy to his presence. Matthew hated him with so much fury, wanted him to leave, and never return. Never bother him with his damn "counseling sessions" ever again. To just STOP DAMN PRETENDING HE WAS TRYING TO HELP.

"Matthieu it is Wednesday, did you forget again?" He stared at him with fucking disappointed eyes as if he actually cared if Matthew bothered to showed up.

"no"

"were you just going to ignore that you have sessions with me ever Monday, Wednesday, Friday afterschool again?"

"yes"

The Frenchman sighed, and placed a hand to his forehead to remove the non existent sweat "Matthieu, these sessions are helping you figure out what you are going to do after you graduate. You need a plan. Life doesn't just hand you things on a silver platter" especially to people like you. it went unsaid, but Matthew knew it was there.

"I've told you time and time again" Matthew gathered his books and various homeworks in to his backpack "I don't know what I'm doing after I graduate" I'm jumping off the school roof.

"Matthieu..." He started off in that voice he always uses when he gets to that topic.

"stop, just stop now"

"Matthieu you must consider that maybe if you weren't so free with your body you could actually hold a chance in this world..."

"stop" Matthew was shaking now "stop with your filthy fucking lies."

"Matthieu..." Francis reached forward towards the shaking boy, his eyes seemed sad and almost pitying

"I HAVE NO CHANCE IN THIS LIFE" Matthew finally snapped and screamed, looking right at the teacher "NO CHANCE, NONE. I AM AN ORPHAN, I LET PEOPLE FUCK ME FOR TWENTY BUCKS. WHAT FUCKING CHANCE DO I HAVE?" Without waiting for a response, he stormed past the Frenchman without looking at his face.

He was just so tired of people pretending they understood him.

"3 months" he whispered nearly inaudibly under his breathe.

Francis sighed as he slumped in to the chair in the teachers lounge "I don't know how to deal with that boy..." unaware someone was listening

"just ignore him" Yao, the history teacher responded behind him "that boy is going nowhere, everyone knows it, aru."

Francis sighed "I can't just do that Yao."

The Chinese teacher sipped his tea "and why not, aru? There are plenty of other blanks in the school who have much more potential than that whore"

"YAO" Francis snapped, looking at him expectantly

"what?" He didn't even bother looking up from his tea "I'm just saying it as it is. That boys is going nowhere, aru"

That boy is going nowhere, and everyone knows. Even the boy himself.

Francis was enveloped in a warming embrace by his marvelous husband, Arthur.

"have a nice day at work?" Arthur asked politely, already setting up the necessary ingredients for dinner (which Francis would make, god forbid Arthur touch a stove)

"yes" he loosened his tie "although exhausting, I will admit. I just can't ignore that Matthew boy."

Arthur stiffened, although Francis did not notice "and why is that?" his voice was dead cold.

"I don't know. I just feel he has so much potential within him. I don't want to seem him out there on the streets selling his body to random men. I care for him, and I feel as if no one else in this world does" Francis sighed

Arthur nearly growled "that's because no one does. He's a free loading orphan, costing people like us so much in taxes when they themselves contribute nothing to society. If it was up to me, We'd have rounded them all up and have them executed the moment they were orphaned"

"Arthur!" Francis was shocked. Never before had he heard such vile things from his husband's mouth, and he spoke like sailor.

"sorry" he apologized, without actually sounding sorry "but I just don't think they are even human once their parents are gone. They're just so... different"

"different is not bad, Arthur"

"I know, I know. But that doesn't change the way I think"

They fell in to an awkward silence after that. Francis busying himself with dinner, while Arthur went over paperwork in his office. They didn't very often speak about Matthew, for specifically this reason. While Francis thought it was society's duty to help people like him, Arthur very strongly thought they were worse than the gum stuck to his shoe.

"DAD, PAPA, I'M HOME" their only son called in to the otherwise empty house, slamming the door behind him.

"Hello, Alfred" Francis smiled, hoping his normally oblivious son wouldn't pick up on him and his father's tense atmosphere from the bickering earlier. When it came to this topic, Francis was outnumbered. Both his son and husband agreed, orphans were terrible.

Luckily today, god was on his side "what's for din-din?"

Francis proudly displayed his nearly complete creation "roasted ham with pineapple and Brussels sprouts. It should be done in about an hour"

"Awesome!" he shouted "I am STARVING" He threw his bag on the couch and ran up to his room, presumably to play video games.

A slightly muffled voice from the office shouted "do your homework Alfred! If your grades drop any lower, I'm pulling you from the football team!"

Francis chuckled, glad that the earlier grief had been dispelled. While Alfred and Arthur certainly had their moments, they were father and son at the heart, even at a biological level. They'd had a surrogate mother for Alfred, using Arthur's sperm. While Francis was just as much his father, he felt the way those two connected as father and son. Sometimes he wondered how that felt. Knowing your child was your very own. Feeling that magical bond...

A sharp knock on the door woke him from his reverie. Placing the stove on a medium-low so it wouldn't over boil, he went and answered the door, knowing Alfred couldn't be bothered to get up for at least half an hour after arriving home from a game, and Arthur wouldn't hear it through the nearly sound proof walls he had installed so he could work in peace.

Opening the door, a man in social services uniform stood. The same straight face, the same dull grey uniform, The same hairstyle. His eyes held no hope nor happiness in them. Just... nothing.

"Mister Bonnefoy?" His voice was monotone, betraying no emotion whatsoever, as they were trained to do.

"...yes?"

"With the increasing amounts of children in the foster care system, DNA tests are being done on abandoned children with one or more living parents. You have been found as the father of one of the local children. Here is his profile, personal information, profile picture, grades in school, and other necessary information. Whether or not you lay claim to him his completely your choice. You have until he graduates, 3 months, to decide." He handed the stunned frenchman a sealed large yellow envelope with said papers inside, turned, and left. After a few moments of standing there stunned, he turned and went inside, closing the door behind him.

For minutes, or possibly hours for he did not have a lucid grasp of time at this moment, he sat and stared at the envelope, unsure if he truly wanted to know the secrets the contents held. He could just throw it in the fire, pretend he'd never seen it nor known about it. Just pretend the man never visited, The envelope never existed, and forget about the whole incident.

But... somehow, out there, he had a son. His own biological son. His own flesh and blood. Who was he to condemn this boy to a life of poverty and depression? What if he knew this boy? He had to... He had to know.

Slowly, with trembling hands, he opened the envelope.

**A/N ahaha late chapter is so, so late. I am sorry but my health has been suffering terribly this flu season, not to mention writers block in the middle of this chapter, so take this extra long chapter as an apology. please review, it is like medication to my writer block ridden mind! **

**Also, thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed last chapter and had to wait so long for this chapter**


	3. Chapter 3

Beyond help part 3

A small worn photo of Matthew floated to the ground, joined by several pages of personal information. Francis simply stared, and stared. His blue eyes widened to incredulous amounts. Matthew, the boy he cared for at school, the student most loathed by others, the orphan hated by his husband and son.

how could this be?

years ago

Arthur stared incredulously at his sister. There was no possible way what she was saying was true.

"y-your pregnant?" His voice barely came above a shocked whisper

"yes, please Arthur you have to understand, I didn't mean for this to happen. It was just one night, both us were under the influence of alcohol we didn't know what we were doing..." she rambled on and on with excuses as to how they didn't mean it, she didn't know what would happen, she even begged for his forgiveness before his patience finally wore thin

"Alice, who is the father?"

She immediately snapped her mouth shut, and shifted her eyes away from her brother

"alice..." his voice became slightly darker "who is the father?" he repeated himself.

"Arthur I'm so sorry..." She sounded desperate and tired

"Alice who is the father?!" He was nearly shouting now, feeling desperate himself and hoping what he began to think she was going to say was not true.

Her voice was barely audible "francis"

Arthur sat tense, unspeaking, for many moments before finally breaking the silence "you mean Francis as in, my fiance Francis?"

She sobbed "Please Arthur, I'm sorry. Neither of us meant for this to happen, I don't even think he remembers the night, ple-" she was cut off by Arthur's sharp voice.

"get out" he snapped

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The sharpness in his voice "w-what?"

"I said get out, don't come back, and don't you dare try to contact Francis ever again"

Her sobs came back in full power "please Arthur I have nowhere to go, nowhere to stay. My child... they'll need a father to help please he can still be with you but I need someone to help me raise this child"

"you're right, someone has to help and that someone is not Francis, not my Fiance, and definitely not the father of the son we have coming on the way!"

She gasped "Arthur, I didn't know..."

"you didn't know, and you never will. Now get out before I call the police"

It was the last time Arthur saw his sister, but not the last time he spoke to her. Several moments later, he made the phone call the changed the life of the child growing within his sister forever.

"Alice?" His strained voice came through the receiver.

"Arthur?" His sister replied, sounding exhausted.

"Hello Alice. How... How have you been?"

"I've been... fine. Thank you for calling. And yourself?"

"Fine, fine. No complications with our son, and we have yet to choose a name for him"

An uneasy silence settled between the two as Arthur prepared to finally but his plan in action while Alice pondered as to why her brother was calling her now, 3 months after kicking her out on to the streets.

"Look Alice, I feel it is only necessary I tell you this" He put as much heartfelt emotion as possible in to those words

"T-tell me what brother?" she sounded anxious, and worried

"I finally realized that you truly will need a man to help you raise your child" the lies fell from his lips too easily "and so I told Francis about you and your child, but... god sister I'm so sorry"

She tried to remain silent, not wanting to know what he was going to say, but she was unable to hold her silence for long "what did he say"

"I'm so, so sorry sister" He wasn't "but he said he does not want anything to do with you. I never imagined he could be so cruel, but he is."

He could just hear his sisters sobs through the phone. He felt no pity for her, he felt no remorse. Francis was a man far too kind for his own good and had confessed to sleeping with sister just days after forcing his sister away. Francis begged for forgiveness and that was a treat he could give. He loved his soon-to-be-husband more than anything, and was more than willing to forgive him knowing deep in Francis's heart he was a kind man.

But that was the problem Arthur faced, Francis was too kind. Too willing to help others in need. If he knew of the child he was to be having soon he would never forgive himself. He would make all sorts of promises to love both of them equally and help their son just as much as his own, but that's not what Arthur wanted. Arthur wanted Francis all to myself, yes it was selfish of him, but there was no way Francis could properly divide his time between the two families and The british man's worst fear was that Francis would abandon him in favor of his sister and her child. Technically, their son on the way wasn't even his! He had no obligation to Arthur and his son, but Alice's coming child was the Frenchman's flesh and blood. He would leave, Arthur knew it, and he couldn't let happen to his son, even if it meant throwing his sister to the dogs

"I- I understand. Brother, I must go" and she hung up on Arthur, who was determined not to feel any regret at his decision. He was only mildly successful.

5 months passed before Arthur was notified his sister, Alice Kirkland, had gone in to childbirth. Giving the same response he'd given his sister, that they didn't want her, he hung up. The words felt bitter and sour on his tongue but he kept reminding himself, this was for his son. This was for him and his family. He was doing the right thing.

It took them 2 weeks to finally notify him of her death. The funeral was short and small. Her parents attended, along with Arthur, Francis, and their newborn son Alfred. No one was told of how she died. Arthur held that knowledge close to his heart, willing no one to discover the child she'd born. And no one discovered him.

It was 12 years that then passed, and Arthur was happy with life. Alfred was a popular young fellow, making many friends. Francis was teaching high school, but volunteering some time as a councilor at the middle school Alfred was taught at. It was then that Arthur met him.

The young boy with the dead hope in his violet eyes. The soft blonde hair of his sister, the waves in his hair of his husband. He came to discover the boy's name, Matthew. It was the blank spot for his last name that finally convinced Arthur the quiet boy who offered kisses to other boys (or girls) in exchange for their cookies and other various treats, was indeed his nephew.

He prayed to god every night that Francis would not discover who the boy was. As luck would have it, Francis remained blind to the killing similarities between them. Lord knew he spent enough time with the boy to see them. But Francis had no knowledge of Alice ever being pregnant, there was no way for him to discover his true son. So why did rage and fury fill him every time over the course of those years when Francis mentioned him? Why did Francis speak with such a prideful tone of voice whenever Matthew was brought in to the conversation? Did he already know? Was he planning on abandoning them in favor of this blank son of his?

He desperately tried to change Francis's views on blanks. The man was truly too good for his own good, and believed they could be saved, that they could actually change and possibly even contribute to society. How he could even consider this? It was all because of this damn blank boy!

Over the years, Arthur's hatred towards blanks grew and grew thanks to his paranoia over Matthew. Unknowingly, his hatred was rubbing off on their son and before he knew it Alfred was getting reprimanded for beating up the orphans within the academy. Of course his punishments were anything but severe, just a little half hearted scolding about how hurting others was wrong. Francis tried to enforce stricter rules on their son but Arthur forbade it. In his eyes, this kept Matthew even further from their lives.

Present time

Francis still sat and stared at the paper. How was this even possible? Surely he'd never impregnated a woman? They would have told him! But here it was, clear as day, that he was the biological father of Matthew.

Just at that moment, Arthur emerged from his office, cup of steaming tea in hand.

"who was that at the door?" Francis couldn't bring himself to answer Arthur's question. How had this happened? How had he let this boy live the terrible life of an orphan all these years?

"Francis?" He held his head between his hands and hunched over, desperately trying not to cry. He couldn't explain to Arthur what was going on in his head. Hell, he didn't even know what was going on in his head.

Arthur peered over his shoulder, and saw the documents laying on the floor. He bent over and picked them up. A headshot of Matthew's face, his grades in school, various personal information entries including his date of birth, July 1st.

"Francis what's this all about?" Arthur still held the incrimenating files in his hands, unaware of what was about to transpire.

"He's my son" Francis mumbled, but Arthur heard him loud and clear.

"what?" Shock quickly entered his voice. Francis assumed it was from learning his partner was unfaithful, but in truth Arthur wanted to know he discovered it.

"The foster agency came with these papers, saying he's my son. I have 3 months to decide whether or not I want to care for him" Surprisingly, despite the hell wind that was blowing through him and the fact that is mind was just a one giant jumble, his voice was calm and unwavering.

Feigning confusion and innocence, Arthur asked "how?"

"I- I" guilt slipped in to his voice "I don't know mon chere. I am sorry" tears began streaming down his face "I am so sorry"

Arthur embraced his husband from the side "it's alright love" He kissed him on the cheek, the slight stubble tickling his lips "We'll just leave him. He doesn't need to know your his father. Just forget this ever happened" He moved to throw the papers in the fireplace where they would later be burned, but Francis grabbed his wrist.

"Non, we cannot. Arthur mon chere" He looked him in the eyes "He is my son, I have left him to a life of misery and loneliness. The least I can do is help him now" He was too kind for his own good.

"Francis, it is not your fault. You did not know. You owe him nothing."

"Arthur, that is wrong. I owe him everything. I am his father, I do not know who is mother is, but I should've been there. I owe him his life."

"Francis you gave him life. That is all. You do not owe him a thing. Just forget you ever found these papers"

"Arthur we must care him"

"but he's an orphan!"

"No he is not!" Francis snapped and stood up "An orphan has no parents, no one to claim them. I received the responsibility of that boy the minute those papers landed in my hand!"

Arthur stared at him with hate filled eyes "I do not hate orphans because they are orphans, I hate them because they are raised as orphans. They are disgusting, rude, impolite little shits and I will admit, it is not their fault! They had no parents to teach them otherwise, But Matthew has been raised as an orphan and I will not have some blank pig in my house!"

For minutes that felt like hours, they stared each other down, neither ready to give up their position of temporary power to the other. Their staring match could only last for so long before Francis finally took a seat, and sighed in to his hands "Why don't we compromise. We take in Matthew for the 3 months until he graduates, and then see if we want him to stay alright?"

Arthur felt dread creeping in. He wanted Matthew nowhere near his home or his family, but Francis was clearly unwilling to give in so he finally sighed and sat down next to him "alright, but only 3 months"

**A/N whaaat? Is Zoe actually updating on time? yes she is! Luckily I have a pretty good idea on how the rest of the story will pan out so as long as life does not interfere, updates should be on schedule from now on 3 **

**reviews are terribly scary things that scare away life and ensure updates come on time~**


	4. Chapter 4

Beyond help part 4

Standing outside the government issued foster house car, suitcase in hand, Matthew still couldn't be sure what events had lead for him to be standing here in this exact moment. One minute he'd been sitting in his tiny cramped room completing the last of his chemistry homework (ugh), the next he was being told to pack his things and getting whisked away in to the car.

Through out the drive he'd questioned the straight faced agent driving the car who he was, where he was going, why he was going there, but he didn't receive a single word from the man. Eventually he gave up and resigned to staring out the window at the buildings they passed. Eventually he realized they wound up in one of the slightly better neighborhoods. Not necessarily rich, but far from poor. Each house held sweeping green lawn with tall houses reaching to the sky adorned with large windows. Definitely better than his drug-deals-with-a-dash-of-murder-in-the-back-alley neighborhood.

And now here he stood, a large concrete path dividing the shiny lawn in two, a classic white picket fence separating yard from road. A few people were outside, with their children, walking their dogs, going for a jog. They all stared, and all their eyes said the same thing: What's an orphan like him doing in a place like this?

Honestly, he himself wanted to know as well.

After several minutes of standing there feeling like an idiot in his tattered clothing, the front door to the house before him swung open, revealing none other than his councilor. Suddenly this joke didn't seem so funny anymore. Mr. Bonnefoy walked down the path, a pleasant smile plastered on his face.

"Bonjour Mathieu?" He greeted cheerfully.

He jumped right to the point "Why am I here?"

"Why are you here?" he tilted his head, almost like an excited puppy "Did they explain nothing to you?"

He shrugged "Pretty much"

Then he smiled like Matthew was possibly the most exciting thing that had ever happened "Well I'll carry your bags... er bag inside and you follow me. I'll explain everything once we're inside"

As they walked up the path, Matthew was somewhat reminded of a 4 year old getting their first puppy. Mr. Bonnefoy couldn't get this happy bounce out of his step as he rambled on about how happy he was Matthew was here, how nice it was going to be with a new face in the house, how much he was looking forward to cooking for him. Matthew only half paid attention, more interested in the fact that Alfred Kirkland-Bonnefoy was standing on the front step leering down at him.

"Welcome home Matthew" Alfred called out, without a single hint of joy in his voice. He leaned against the polished wooden door frame "please enjoy your temporary stay"

"Alfred" Francis kindly warned. Clearly what he said had not been appropriate, although Matthew couldn't say he didn't expect it from the American asshat.

"Don't worry" Matthew followed Mr. Bonnefoy inside, past Alfred "I'll keep it as temporary as possible"

While Francis's smile withered at the exchange between the two boys, he continued up the stairs in to the guest bedroom ("Matthew's bedroom" he reminded himself) and placed the small ancient suit case on the luxurious bed. It stood far too much. Everything in the room was sharp, clean, and pristine while the baggage was old dreary, faded and worn out from obvious years of usage. It stood out like a farmer at a formal gathering. It simply looked too... too... low class.

While the Bonnefoy-Kirklands were anything but rich, they were no middle class family. Most of their furniture being expensive and their rooms being neat and tidied. They found pride in what they had, which was nice and elegant. But in the foster program, things were much worse. Furniture old and handed down generation to generation of kids. The employees were old and withered. They held no happiness in their hearts for the children they cared for. Arthur always said it was one of the many reasons orphans had no chance in life, they never felt proper love from a caring adult.

Matthew followed up the stairs behind him, uninterested eyes slightly widening at the size of his room. It was average, with a large bed, a window overlooking the backyard, a desk with a laptop to use for schoolwork, and a bookcase with various books but room for others should he choose to fill them.

"Over here we have your closet" Mr. Bonnefoy gestured towards a pair of double doors across from the desk. He swung them open and and there lay a small average sized closet with a few t-shirts and odd things "We gathered some of Alfred's old things since they seem they would fit you, but you can put your own clothes in here as well." He walked out of the room and Matthew followed

"over here is the upstairs bathroom you and Alfred will be sharing." A glance past the white trimmed door showed an overly shiny bathroom, bigger than his old room, with stainless steel everything "This is Alfred's room" He didn't dare try to steal a look in to the dull red and blue door across from his own "downstairs we have the living room" A prissy looking stuck up man sat in there reading a book while sipping some of his tea. There was some similarities between Alfred the asshat and this man. Father and son? Well, there had to be a Kirkland in Bonnefoy-Kirkland somewhere.

"That is Arthur, my husband" He offered the most brief of polite waves before returning to his book "over here is the kitchen" another room easily double the size of his old bedroom with stainless steel everything "and the dining room" A round shiny wooden table with three matching chairs and one mismatched darker chair that had clearly been recently added surrounded the table "down that hall over there is my husband and I's bedroom, the bathroom we share, and the games room. Feel free to use it whenever you wish, Alfred practically lives down there as it is"

Finally they stopped walking once they reached the end of the hallway. Lasers and zombies could be heard shouting and screaming from the games room along with Alfred's cries of how he was the hero "Alright Mathieu that's the layout of the house if you have any questions you can ask me or Arthur-"

"Yeah ok here's one" Matthew cut him off, beyond irritated and confused "why the fuck am I here?"

Francis immediately paled slightly "maybe this would be something better explained in the living room with the rest of the family"

After a few minutes (there really wasn't much to say) Matthew stared at the rest of these people, HIS FAMILY, with wide aghast eyes.

"S-so" damn that fucking nervous stutter "you, Mr. Bonnefoy, are my biological father"

"Yes" Francis confirmed "do you know who your mother is?"

Arthur immediately tensed up. This could ruin everything. Francis would know the truth. He would hate him. Pack up and leave just like his own father did, Leaving his mother to care for 5 boys lest they become orphans. That couldn't happen. Oh god here it comes...

"How the fuck should I know? All I know is she died birthing me, she didn't run off if that's what your thinking" Matthew was clearly irritated. He just found out his annoying ass councilor was, as of now, his father and the american asshat was technically, by default, his brother.

"Matthew" the annoying prick who was also technically his father commented "might I ask what you are... wearing?" He was clearly eyeing with disgust the clothing he'd been wearing all day. Matthew didn't think it was that bad, it was better than what most the kids there wore.

"Just some booty shorts and a tank-top why?"

Arthur eyed them both with visible disgust "they are, excuse my rudeness, completely disgusting. They have stains on them, and I do believe those "booty shorts" have a hole near your rear. Not to mention they barely cover you up. If you are to live in this home from now one I DO expect you to dress more appropriately"

Matthew couldn't help but glance at Alfred, who clearly hadn't showered in days and had his own fair share of stains covering the clothing he wore. Arthur hadn't made a single complaint to Alfred in the entirety of the time Matthew had been here, although admittedly the Canadian's clothing was much worse than Alfred's. There was only so much you got out of the barely funded foster program.

As much as it killed him to say it, he spat out "yes I understand. I'll go unpack now" and got up without being dismissed. A sharp comment about how blanks had no manners was thrown, even of Matthew wasn't meant to hear it, it still hurt. That word hurt. Even though he wasn't even a dirty blank anymore, he still felt like one. He was still treated like one. One DNA test and some papers won't change people.

Gently closing the door behind him, he slowly began to unfold and hand the dirty, ripped, patched up shirts and pants he'd grabbed before leaving. He was a master with a sewing kit by now, and you could hardly tell there had been holes to begin with. He'd always repaired his friends shirts and pants for them. Roderich had helped him from time to time, it's who he learned from. Apparently Roderich's mother had taught him before she died of an inexplicable illness. With no father ever being present, he'd wound up with Matthew in that same shit storm of hell that proceeded to plague both boys in their nightmares to this very day. All of Matthew's fellow orphans had graduated and moved on without him. Roderich had been hired in a sweatshop thanks to his marvelous weing skills, even though he dreamed of being a composer. How ever, no colleges would take him despite being the best of his class.

Eduard had gone on to become technical support in a low class computer shop, even though he easily qualified for a job as a complex programmer. He earned enough for himself and little extra, which he confessed was going towards a fund for the youngest of them, Raivis.

Raivis was only in grade 11, and heavily bullied. He lasted through it though, with a soft smile and inner glow that made all attracted to him. He didn't know how Raivis would fare in the outside world. He had no exceptional talents like Roderich or Eduard. He was average, which would be fine if it weren't for the blank label following him around everywhere he went. For now, Matthew could only hope and pray to a god he didn't believe in that he would alright. Not like the last of their trio.

When Matthew was in grade 9, 14 years old, his best and oldest friends Toris graduated and took the jump.

It had come as a shock to him. Arriving at the over populated foster home (orphanage), he went to his shared room with the older boy and found a note addressed to him on his bed. It had been the last thing he ever recieved from the Lithuanian boy. It read:

_Dear Matthew,_

_The times we have had together have been fun. It's been nice seeing you grow from a child in to a premature adult. You have assets and you know how to manipulate others to get your way. You will do fine in the outside world._

_Sadly, I have no special talents nor jobs lined up. The orphanage has kicked me out with no where to go, no way to earn money, and no future ahead of me. At this rate, I'll simply starve to death. I want to skip the pain and jump to end. So jump, I will._

_See you on the other side,_

_Toris._

It was shortly after that he was informed the graduated student was nothing more than a pile of flesh on the concrete now. The funeral (if you could call it that) had been short, and small. Just the remaining 4 of them and the grave digger who buried Toris and the rest of the orphans who jumped in to one mass pit, then covered it with a tarp.

"No point in burying 'em now" his withered voice had weezed "more poor souls will be joining 'em in the comin' days. May as well not work my old back and wait till their done"

As they were walking back, an entire family was mourning the death of one boy, their son, who had jumped for being bullied tremendously. His mother, father, and siblings along with extended family all attended. Aunts and uncles shed their tears for the poor, innocent boy who deserved none of what he received. Grandparents left small stuffies and toys and his grave, despite him being a graduated senior. Close friends told stories of the fun times they had together, and how they prayed he was happy now and in a better place.

That day, Matthew felt a bitterness he had never felt before spread through him at the injustice being committed. One boy jumped, and dozens came to mourn the loss of this marvelous young boy, But just 100ft away stood a giant pit filled with dozens like him who had done the exact same as himself, yet not a soul stood there now. How was Toris so different from this other mystery boy? Toris who had held him when he cried and encouraged him to follow his dreams. Toris who had never harmed a soul and was filled with such kindness many others couldn't compare to.

Toris, who was now labeled as a pile of flesh on the concrete.

Ever since that day, Matthew had never forgotten and never would forget the bitterness in his soul. The equality the government preached was never there. Not even the law enforcement gave a damn for their well being. A blank could be having a heart attack in a hospital and they'd treat a normal person's skinned knee first. It was just how things were. Just how things are.

And as Matthew continued hanging his belongings, NOT changing out of the booty shorts he wore, he realized he was still faced with these prejudices to this very day, with the clothing situation between him and Alfred and the obvious hatred Arthur felt on his heart toward him.

He dug to the bottom of his bag and sure enough, there it was, the only possession he could truly call his own.

"I will never fit in will I, mom?" He asked the silver necklace with the maple leaf charm. He wrapped it around his neck and tucked it under his shirt, whispering "3 months and I'll fit in. After all, we're all equal when we're dead"

**A/N thank god for sick days or I never would have finished this time. Yeah my science teacher's humor is assigning 40 science questions for homework and lab to write out for the weekend. I had next to no time to write, which is why I am publishing this so late, although it is still Monday for me so you can't technically kill me :D**

**Anyways please review! It helps my cold ridden mind think of what to write through all the fog and haze that comes with a stuffed head.**


	5. Chapter 5

Beyond help Part 5

Bodies pressed together, hips rubbed against hips, shoulders bumped shoulders, and the energy in the air made everything seem electric, static, and filled with an insanity you couldn't get anywhere else. Bright lights flashed, and thick man made fog filled the area, reducing visibility to those around you. Pounding music deafened all inside, but none cared. This was exciting, exhilarating, and a piece of the world they didn't live in.

Psycho Circus had a reputation to uphold. A reputation as the most hardcore, most insane, grittiest darkest night club around. No on goes to a place like this for ballroom dancing. To keep their edgy wild ways alive, they allowed all patrons to enter as long as they paid the entrance fee.

Even blanks.

This was where Matthew often found himself Saturday nights. After the horrendous meeting with his new "family" he needed to lose himself, let himself fall in to a lull of moving bodies, pounding music, blinding lights, and grabbing hands. Passionate grabbing and grinding surrounded the Canadian blank. He let the shouts, the music, the lights, the fog lull him in to a state of nothinness. He felt nothing, heard nothing. All there was was the people, the dancing, the floor. Everyone enjoyed themselves, and the drinks. Brightly coloured liquids promising waking dreams never before experienced. Matthew steered clear of those. He needed his head to be able to help himself if anyone came after him without paying.

A pair of large hands made their way to his hips and a body pressed against his backside. A few moments of sensational contact between the two, and Matthew knew he had him hooked.

"are you interested in some fun, little one?~" the distinctively Russian voice of Ivan, one of his class mates, spoke in to his ear.

Matthew smirked "That depends, how much do you have?"

This time, a lustful expression came across the larger boy's face "20 dollars"

A small hand took the larger in to his own, and brought him over to a small closet where they could be alone. Once the door shut, their bodies were pressed together. Breathes tickled each other as Matthew lowered himself to his knees.

"Show me how big you really are" He pressed his hands to Ivan's inner thighs and slowly inched them higher towards the ever growing tent. While Ivan kept a cool calm demeanor, Matthew could see the way his hands twitched, how badly he wanted to be inside him one way or another. After so many years of practice, He'd become accustomed to their antics.

His hands just barely brushed over the bulge but it was enough. Ivan let out a low moan from the bottom of his throat and let his eyes roll up to face the ceiling. Someone was sensitive today.

"Tell me Ivan" His hands were slowly brushing up against the zipper, just waiting to release the beast within "has Yao been ignoring you lately?"

Ivan refused to reply, but Matthew saw right through him. He wanted him, and that was probably only because of how much his own lover had been studying and concentrating on academics. Every man had sexual desires. Sometimes they were forced to pay a blank to do so.

For the most part, it was a win-win situation. Ivan got sucked off, Matthew got some extra spending money for the week "You're so eager, and I know you hate what I do. So why come to me now?" he was toying with him now. He knew that getting them frustrated before hand made the experience all the better later "hm?"

A feral sounding growl emitted from the Russian's mouth, a snarl on his face. He was flushed from the constant padding over his genitalia, and he wanted release. Now. He got the point across by roughly grabbing the Canadians head and shoving it towards the crotch already in his face.

Even though most would detest being man handled this way, the orphan boy was beyond used to it by now. He even took some satisfaction in it. It meant he'd riled them up enough to expect a fairly large sum of cash to come his way by the end of it.

Gently, slowly as he could, he slid the pants down along with the boxers to reveal the throbbing half hard cock before him. It almost looked red with desperation. He smirked, he had Ivan right where he wanted him. He was desperate. He was lonely. He had big bucks to spend. Definitely more than a measly 20$.

He brought his face closer to the half limp appendage, and slowly brought his tongue across the underside of it. The rather large Russian shuddered in want, bringing his calloused hands and combing them through the soft wavy blonde hair he'd inherited from his father apparently.

He tried not to make a face, but was very obviously turned off by the thought of that man, and focused on the work at hand. He took his palms and pressed them against the ground, arching his back to keep his head high enough and revealing much of his back and waist line, which the Russian eyed hungrily.

He brought his tongue back and forth on the member before feeling it harden enough to have a good go at it. He kissed the tips and ever so slowly brought him past his lips. A large moan shook him inside the Canadian, and he was forced to resist a chuckle. He was putty in his hands. Deeper and Deeper he went, dragging his tongue over it as it passed by until he was deep throating the cock, something he had too much practice in even for his own liking. Relaxing his throat muscles was almost second nature to him at this point.

Ivan's moans and groans kept him going, bobbing up and down, gently grazing teeth causing shivers to resonate through the larger blonde man. Pre-cum trickled down his throat, and it seemed to barely tickle the back of his tongue as salty and bitter. Ivan was definitely close. The hands above him gripped the hair above his ears, pushing his head closer and closer to the skin of his groin, until his testicles bounced off his chin. It wasn't exactly the most satisfying thing ever, but just the feeling of those eyes glued to the exposed skin of his back was enough to know he was getting payment.

But then it happened.

Just as Ivan threw his head back and practically screamed nonsensical Russian, the door burst open and there stood Sadiq holding a phone camera, along with a dozen other assholes Matthew knew, filming the Canadian swallow the cum. Feeling the cock soften and the cum finally quit coming out he pulled out and stood up, ignoring that the others will still filming him.

"my payment?" He held his had out, feeling more than irritated now. Ivan was leaning against the wall, clearly still feeling out of it from getting sucked off after so many weeks of the cold shoulder from Yao he didn't even notice the others now. Blindly grabbing in to his pocket, he handed Matthew 2 20$ bills, even though Matthew was used to receiving less than half that for just a blow job. But he wasn't complaining.

He turned and tried to get around the jocks blocking the doorway only to be pushed back in to the closet. Ivan recovered himself and was easily allowed to slip past the men standing before him. Without so much as a glance back at Matthew, he rejoined the throngs of people dancing, leaving Matthew to deal with them all on his own.

"Hey whore" an anonymous voice from the back called back "mind sucking me off?" a round of snickers following the last comment.

"Yeah blank" Sadiq leered forward looking just as disgusting as per usual "why not fuck us all? you can handle, with how many guys you let fuck you daily"

Making possible the biggest mistake of his life, Matthew spit in his face "Sorry but I Honestly don't think you could afford it" he sneered.

Looking enraged, wiping the spit off his cheek he growled "wrong move bitch" and before the orphan could react, punched him right in the face, knocking him to the ground.

They all gathered around the fallen boy "who says we have to pay?"

The fallen boy's violet eyes widened before hands descended upon him, grabbing at his clothing, ripping and tearing random places. He fought back, lashing out, scratching, hitting, biting anything he could but to no avail. A pale muscular hand reached through the crowd and pulled the panting boy from the lustful group and in to his chest.

"Sorry boys" A German accent growled "but I think he's done for the night" without waiting for a response, the German stranger wrapped his arm around his shoulder and escorted him out of the closet, past the entrance way, and out the building down the street. After walking for a few minutes they came across a shiny red car. He was about get in before he realized he didn't even know who he was.

Looking up at their face was certainly a shock for him.

"Gilbert?" he asked incredulously, realizing the man who saved him from that potentially traumatic situation was the same one who paid to fuck him against a wall during school hours in a bathroom was a little hard to accept.

"Um yeah" The albino mumbled, not looking him in the eye "I saw those guys there and thought well, 'what the hell' and rape isn't awesome and stuff so I thought i would help you out and um yeah those guys are dicks and uh..."

Matthew chuckled "thanks Gil"

He smiled "yeah no problem. By the way, uh, you might want to cover up with this" he handed him his heavy warm expensive coat.

At first Matthew didn't understand, but then looking down it him. During the encounter, his already pretty revealing clothing had become downright rags. Little pieces still fell off him here and there. He was practically naked.

"uh.. uh thanks yeah I might need it" He slowly slid it on, resisting a moan as he had never felt something this soft in a jacket. His own were always scratchy and uncomfortable but got the job done. This was heaven.

"No prob. Hey hop in the car will you?" Gilbert himself rounded to the drivers side of the car, which was now unlocked.

"Uh why?" He felt apprehensive, and understandably so after being assaulted.

"relax. I'm driving you home. I can't leave you to walk home by yourself after what happened, besides, that's my coat"

Matthew resisted rolling his eyes "I was going to bus"

"just get in the car" he replied with a snarky tone. Matthew resisted a resigned sigh, and got in on the passenger side. Gilbert was grinning ear to ear.

"where to?"

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The drive was long, yet comfortable. Matthew had a sneaking suspicion the German albino took a slightly longer route than necessary, but didn't really mind. The seats were comfortable, the car was warm, and Gilbert didn't even so much as try an inappropriate glance at him even though it was very possible despite the jacket. There was still so much skin exposed, and glitter clinging to all sorts of inappropriate places.

But after what still didn't feel long enough to either of them, They pulled up in front of Mr. Bonnefoy's house, where a worried papa stood waiting for them.

Matthew sighed "please don't tell him"

"Ah um yeah Mattie that's gonna be kinda hard when you're all bruised up like that"

Matthew stepped up and out of the car, handing Gilbert his jacket "no one at the orphanage ever asked, he probably won't" and with that, the cut up, bruised, rag wearing boy stepped out and began walking up towards the house where a flustered French men clearly had different intentions than what the Canadian anticipated, immediately being worried over, and having questions that Gilbert couldn't hear asked.

"See ya Birdie" He whispered to himself before driving away from the father and frustrated son.

**A/N So this story is just kind of writing itself and I feel like I almost have no hand in the plot anymore. It is literally controlling me. I start out with a chapter, having no idea what to do, and bam! words are coming out of the keyboard like magic. It's kinda freaking me out. **

**But yeah so yet another antagonist is revealed, but is Gilbert as much of an ass as previously thought? **

**Please leave reviews! Review are the fuel for my magic keyboard that seemingly is writing the story for me. See you lovelies next week! I love you all! **


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